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    The Black Cellar
    The Black Cellar
    The Black Cellar
    Ebook594 pages9 hours

    The Black Cellar

    By Raymond Towers

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Seventeen year old Jason Moore had enough problems to deal with. His parents had just moved from the city to the country, shortly before his high school graduation. Now, he’s discovering some very sinister, macabre secrets in the house his parents watch over. While looking for clues, he will follow a darkening path that will lead him to the most diabolical evil of all. Rating: HIGH controversy.

    Starting Over Really Sucks

    Jason Moore cast a longing glance at the wall clock. In his thoughts, he cursed it for being so slow. Every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour, every hour like an eternity.

    Jason was in a prison for teenagers. He was sitting in a textured, bright orange plastic chair, with a wire basket soldered under the seat, and at waist level, a small wood-laminate surface that fit either a book or a sheet of line paper, but not both items at the same time. Benton High School was so much different than Jason’s old high school in San Diego, he lamented. Even the chairs sucked here.

    Jason hated Benton. He hated the way the other students treated him; the way the girls would glance at him and whisper to themselves, the way the boys shouldered their way past him in the hallways, or merely ignored him as if he wasn’t even there. Jason hated that he was an outcast, because of how late in the school year he’d transferred, because he didn’t dress or talk like any of the other kids.

    Jason hated most of all hearing students bragging about their prom dates or the upcoming graduation ceremony. He didn’t belong in Benton High; he didn’t want to belong in Benton High. He wanted to be back in San Diego, making his own plans to go to the prom with his buddies, and goofing around while rehearsing for the big day of graduation. That’s all his buddies kept talking about in their emails.

    If Jason could change the world and return things to how they used to be, he’d make it so that his mom and dad never lost their house to the bank. That way, they would have never left his hometown and moved up to... to this crappy place.

    Benton really blows, Jason thought. When that Melville guy said, ‘Thar she blows!’ the teen mused, he was probably talking about Benton. He grinned at his little joke.

    Somebody snickered to his left. Jason turned to see the girl in the next row watching him. She looked over to whisper to the girl beside her, loud enough for Jason to hear.

    “He is so stupid!”

    Jason was stupid, he thought. He should never have come to this little town, where nobody paid any attention to him, and where everybody was making fun of him behind his back.

    But at least there was the big house to look forward to, once he finished his classes for the day and headed back home. It had been built way back in the nineteen-forties, and it had once catered to the Hollywood elite back in the day. Now, Jason’s dad was in charge of taking care of the place. The house even had its own name; it was known as the Grant House. How many houses had their own name?

    And lastly, there was that persistent rumor that the Grant House was haunted... but that couldn’t be true, could it?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRaymond Towers
    Release dateApr 20, 2012
    ISBN9781476452692
    The Black Cellar
    Author

    Raymond Towers

    Raymond Towers is an author of fantasy, horror and science fiction that strays away from the mainstream, plus a little in the way of true paranormal and other genres. He has written and independently published over forty titles, most of them full-length novels and collections, with several more on the way. The author has been a lifelong resident of warm and sunny southern California, a location that pops up frequently in his writing. At the moment, the author is looking for ways to reach new readers all over the world, in addition to pursuing his great love of writing and taking it to the next level.

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      Book preview

      The Black Cellar - Raymond Towers

      About the cover: The cover image is titled The Cellar. It was uploaded to Flickr by Steven Roy, and is being used under a Creative Commons 2.0 License.

      About this title: Seventeen year old Jason Moore had enough problems to deal with. His parents had just moved from the city to the country, shortly before his high school graduation. Now, he’s discovering some very sinister, macabre secrets in the house his parents watch over. While looking for clues, he will follow a darkening path that will lead him to the most diabolical evil of all. Rating: HIGH controversy.

      #####

      Other e-books by Raymond Towers:

      A Terrible Thing To Waste

      Before The Seven 1 – Don Diego Meets Lucky Luis

      Demonic Murmurs Collection

      Dobrynia’s Path 1 – Dark Harbinger

      Dobrynia’s Path 2 - Ragnarok

      Roaches In The Attic 0 – Non-Retrieval

      The Throwback

      The Two Sides Of Humburg

      Two Bedroom Cottage

      Variant Worlds 1 Collection

      Varriano 1 – The Case Of The Missing Q-Drives

      Starting Over Really Sucks

      Jason Moore cast a longing glance at the wall clock. In his thoughts, he cursed it for being so slow. Every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour, every hour like an eternity.

      Jason was in a prison for teenagers. He was sitting in a textured, bright orange plastic chair, with a wire basket soldered under the seat, and at waist level, a small wood-laminate surface that fit either a book or a sheet of line paper, but not both items at the same time. Benton High School was so much different than Jason’s old high school in San Diego, he lamented. Even the chairs sucked here.

      Jason hated Benton. He hated the way the other students treated him; the way the girls would glance at him and whisper to themselves, the way the boys shouldered their way past him in the hallways, or merely ignored him as if he wasn’t even there. Jason hated that he was an outcast because of how late in the school year he’d transferred, because he didn’t dress or talk like any of the other kids.

      Jason hated most of all hearing students bragging about their prom dates or the upcoming graduation ceremony. He didn’t belong in Benton High; he didn’t want to belong in Benton High. He wanted to be back in San Diego, making his own plans to go to the prom with his buddies, and goofing around while rehearsing for the big day of graduation. That’s all his buddies kept talking about in their emails.

      If Jason could change the world and return things to how they used to be, he’d make it so that his mom and dad never lost their house to the bank. That way, they would have never left his hometown and moved up to… to this crappy place.

      Benton really blows, Jason thought. When that Melville guy said, ‘Thar she blows!’ the teen mused, he was probably talking about Benton. He grinned at his little joke.

      Somebody snickered to his left. Jason turned to see the girl in the next row watching him. She looked over to whisper to the girl beside her, loud enough for Jason to hear.

      He is so stupid!

      Jason was stupid, he thought. He should never have come to this little town, where nobody paid any attention to him, and where everybody was making fun of him behind his back.

      But at least there was the big house to look forward to, once he finished his classes for the day and headed back home. It had been built way back in the nineteen-forties, and it had once catered to the Hollywood elite back in the day. Now, Jason’s dad was in charge of taking care of the place. The house even had its own name; it was known as the Grant House. How many houses had their own name?

      And lastly, there was that persistent rumor that the Grant House was haunted… but that couldn’t be true, could it?

      #####

      The Black Cellar

      A Novel Of Horror By

      Raymond Towers

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 Raymond Towers

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      All of the characters in this e-book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      This e-book contains a HIGH amount of controversial subject matter.

      Song lyrics credited to the following: Chick Habit by April Marsh, Happy Birthday by Altered Images

      #####

      Table Of Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      About The Author

      Author Website

      #####

      The Black Cellar

      1

      Jason Moore glanced out through the side window of the speeding SUV. He saw nothing but an empty darkness outside. Not city lights, not the tall, amber lamps that guarded great fields of pavement at shopping malls and stadiums, nothing except for a single pair of red taillights a few car lengths ahead and two lanes over. To the seventeen year-old young man, it felt as if he’d left what he considered to be normal civilization far behind. Jason was now entering into some sinister new universe where there was nothing found but black space, and the blackness stretched out on all sides of him, to infinity.

      The teen sighed as he leaned his head back on the leather headrest. He’d been listening to Adele on his Ipod, repeating such haunting melodies as Hometown Glory and Don’t You Remember over and over. Finally, and partially due to the somber lyrics, he succeeded in discovering a new and previously unfathomed depth to his loneliness and depression.

      Jason clicked the device off, but did not remove his ear buds, as he sometimes did when he wanted to eavesdrop on what his parents were talking about. They weren’t saying anything, he discovered. He decided to break up the cruel monotony by clearing his throat. Mom, where are we now?

      His mother’s given name was Viviana, but Jason’s dad had taken to calling her Viv for short, or the anglicized Vivian if there was company around. It was a habit that Jason personally did not agree with.

      A brown arm ascended up to click on the interior light, and the ensuing bright flood caused Jason to wince. His mother’s pretty face rounded the edge of her captain’s chair. Jason, you know that your father can answer that question a lot better than I can.

      Jason hadn’t talked to his father much during the last few days. A big part of him still didn’t want to. Another part of him, on the other hand, was telling Jason that what was done, was done. His family was moving away from San Diego, and there was nothing that Jason could do to prevent it. He had to accept the inevitable and get on with his life, this regretful, but otherwise reasonable part of his being explained to him.

      His mother raised her eyebrows slightly, as if hinting the same thing.

      Jason relented. Dad, where are we?

      We passed Escondido just a few minutes ago. His dad answered. His name was Brian Moore. We’ve got a short stretch between here and when we hit Temecula. Maybe half an hour or so. What’s the matter, Jay? You hungry? You need a bathroom break?

      Jason had been munching on a bag of chips earlier, but they were all gone now. A burger sounds good.

      Brian addressed Jason’s mother next. How about you, Viv? You up for a burger?

      I’m up for a chicken sandwich. Vivian smiled. She was probably on another one of her health trips again, Jason figured. And I’m not in such a great hurry to get there.

      From his seat, Jason couldn’t see the vehicle’s speedometer, but he figured his dad was driving somewhere in the eighty mile-an-hour range. Brian Moore was a man not well known for his patience and contemplation. He was a mover and a doer instead. Their abrupt uprooting from their lifelong home in San Diego was just one more confirmation of this.

      Do you think anything is still open in Temecula? His mother asked.

      Other than a few fast food places, I doubt it. Brian said, once he’d checked the SUVs digital clock. It’s past midnight now. It is a good place to stop, though, since Temecula puts us about halfway to Benton.

      That was their destination: Benton, California. It was just a little over two hours away from home in driving time, but that meant that Jason would be living more than one hundred miles away from his friends, his school, his extended family, and everything else that had formerly made up the young man’s life.

      It’s funny how everything worked out, isn’t it? His mother was saying. I mean, everything just kind of fell into place. It’s as if it was meant to be.

      Yeah. His dad answered simply. I guess.

      His mother was trying to keep them all feeling positive about the move, Jason knew, but from his perspective her words were coming out all wrong. They’d had a three-bedroom house in San Diego, Jason recalled, and it was close to his school and the mall. Jason’s life, to his way of thinking, had been perfect.

      Something had gone wrong with the bank loan, however, resulting in his parents having to pay a higher and higher mortgage payment every six months. Eventually, their small family couldn’t afford to live in their own house. His father had made some kind of deal with the mortgage company, where he sold their home at a drastically reduced price and they quietly parted ways from the bank and their house.

      Jason’s family ended up moving in with his mother’s parents. Instead of them having plenty of space in a three-bedroom house, like they had previously, all three of the Moores were forced to cram in together into a single bedroom. It hadn’t been pretty, and before long his dad had started bickering with his in-laws.

      Then, a place named Benton suddenly popped into their lives.

      Hadley Moore, his uncle on his dad’s side, worked for the acquisitions department of a firm that catered to big Hollywood movie companies. Hadley was the guy who called up agencies and inquired about extras for peripheral scenes, or rented out properties or equipment to be used in films. He was a go-to guy, and he had a proposition for the basically homeless and desperate Moore family.

      One of the movie companies he provided services for had many years ago purchased a huge house in a rural town in the Inland Empire. This house had six bedrooms, three levels, and from the late nineteen-forties and on through the nineteen-sixties had served as the scene of lavish parties for Hollywood stars and any associates willing to make the hour and a half drive from the Los Angeles County area. It had been featured in a couple of Hollywood films. The house had even acquired had its own name. It was known as the Grant House.

      The house hadn’t been in high demand, or any other demand for that matter, in more recent years. Nothing worthwhile had been filmed at the place recently. The movie company used it only on occasion; to host burned out executives who needed some time away from the city, or to temporarily house pressured screenwriters so they could hurriedly complete a project before a looming deadline.

      Still, the movie company didn’t want to give up the property, even though they weren’t really using it. They intended to make some money off of it eventually, once the economy improved and the housing market returned to a more stable level. That meant they’d have to continue maintaining the place for the time being.

      The current caretakers, according to Hadley, charged an outrageous fee for the nominal maintenance, for two distinct reasons. One, they knew the property belonged to a major motion picture studio. Two, they heavily cited the travel expenses they incurred in having to travel from Los Angeles County to that remote corner of Riverside County. Hadley’s company was approached in order to find a more agreeable arrangement.

      The first person that came to Hadley’s mind was his financially troubled brother Brian. Hadley needed someone to perform minor upkeep on the Grant House, such as tending to the few guests who might be sent in the house’s direction, managing the landscapers that kept the yard tidy, and taking care of trivialities such as changing light bulbs and fixing leaky faucets. And Brian, as it happened, worked as a supervisor at the Do It Yourself Warehouse.

      In exchange for his custodial duties, Brian and his family wouldn’t be compensated monetarily, but they would be allowed to live in the smaller, two bedroom guesthouse on the Grant property without having to pay any rent. They would have to take care of their own food and utilities, though, as those necessities were apart from the stipend set up to handle the main house’s expenses, but as long as one adult remained at the Grant House at all times, the other was free to work off-site as they pleased.

      Jason’s mother, of course, was thrilled with the idea of living in a place where the rich and famous had once mingled and cavorted, and possibly would again in the future. Also, since she’d once worked as a maid and server at a posh hotel in La Jolla, she didn’t too much mind changing bed sheets or preparing breakfast for strangers. This was part of the arrangement, and Vivian wasn’t bothered by it as long as the requests weren’t too exotic or outrageous.

      Jason’s father considered the matter from the beneficial financial standpoint. After having struggled for the better part of two years to save their house in San Diego, their savings were severely depleted. The whole purpose of moving in with the in-laws was for Brian to gather up enough money for them to afford a nice apartment. After seeing that plan crumble before his eyes thanks to the arguments he was having with Vivian’s parents, he now saw the Grant House as the Moore family’s only remaining salvation.

      Brian Moore made some phone calls to the Do It Yourself Warehouse stores in Riverside County. He found a store with a forty-minute commute from Benton that had a supervisor opening, and after some haggling with his current managers he arranged to transfer there from the store in San Diego.

      But what seemed to be a dream come true for his parents had turned Jason Moore’s life upside down. They hadn’t even bothered to consider how Jason was going to be ripped away from everything he knew and loved. In fact, the teen had only been consulted after the decision to move had already been made.

      Do you think you’ll like working at the new store? His mother was asking his father, and although she was simply trying to make conversation, she couldn’t completely hide the tremble of excitement in her voice.

      His father took a deep moment to reply. I sure hope so. It’s a whole different county, with a whole different customer base than my store in San Diego. I’m sure they’ll have a bunch of different priorities, not to mention different management styles and department budgets...

      Oh, you don’t think it’ll be that bad, do you? His mother answered.

      Jason knew this was the type of conversation he should steer clear of. If he got involved with it, he’d undoubtedly be getting the typical ‘Everything will be fine.’ and ‘Oh, you’ll make plenty of new friends at your new school.’ This was the sort of drivel he’d been getting from his mom for that last month.

      The easiest way to ignore his parents’ conversation, he knew, was to click his Ipod back on. He did so, thumbing the current selection to something a little less reminiscent of home. U2 sounded about right to lighten his mood. As he settled back into his more or less comfortable seat, he glanced around at the piles of bagged clothing and boxed small items heaped high inside the SUV.

      Their new home in Benton came fully furnished, and they’d placed a lot of their bigger items, such as their beds and furniture, in a rented storage unit in San Diego. As for the family’s clothing and smaller stuff, his thrifty mother had crammed as much of it as she could into the SUV, even if it meant that they’d have junk under their feet, and stashed on all sides around them. His dad’s legs had been spared, but that was only because he was behind the wheel and needed the floor space to drive.

      As Jason rested an arm on a hastily packed box of pots and pans, he called out, Mom, can you shut off the light? I’m going to try and take a nap.

      A moment later, he found himself once again bathed by the black, except for the tiny glow of the instruments on the dash, and the bright glare of the SUV’s headlights up ahead. Jason hadn’t really wanted to take a nap. He simply wanted to be excluded from a conversation that his heart was not really into. He wanted to feel as left out and ignored as he’d been feeling ever since their unexpected move had first been announced.

      Normally, Jason liked Saturday mornings. He could sleep in a little later than usual because there was no school to worry about, and once he did get up, he would always jump online and see what new movies or music had come out. If his mom could spare the cash for a movie ticket or a CD, he’d call up one or two of his buddies to go with him to the mall. If there wasn’t any extra cash lying around, as had usually been the case during the last few months, he’d call his buddies anyway and they’d figure out where they could hang later in the afternoon. That wasn’t going to happen anymore, Jason groaned. His buddies were all over one hundred miles away.

      Listlessly, Jason turned onto his back. His eyes centered on the ceiling fan. It looked like a silver jar turned upside down, with a small body and a wide mouth, and in the mouth was an opaque, marbleized glass screen for the hidden light fixture. Five spoon-looking petals stretched away from the casing, each holding a fourteen-inch wooden blade.

      Recalling his mother having said something vague about a remote control the previous night, Jason glanced over at the nightstand. He spotted the thin and tiny device. After retrieving it, he studied its many rows of buttons. After a minute of experimenting, he discovered that the remote controlled two light settings, and three fan settings.

      Huh. Jason said as he sat up. He’d never experienced such luxuries before.

      They’d arrived at the Grant House at past two in the morning, far too late for Jason to get a good look at the main house, or even at their living quarters behind it. He’d barely had enough energy to amble into the bedroom his dad had pointed out, shed his outer layer of clothing, and flop onto the bed.

      Now, as Jason compared his new digs to the room he’d been sharing with his parents at his grandma’s house, he thought he was in heaven. Easily, the room qualified as a master bedroom anywhere else, as its dimensions had to be at least twelve feet by fifteen feet. Jason took in the acid yellow paint on the ceiling and walls, the dark wood color of the bed frame, dresser, armoire and nightstand, and the large, mirror on the dresser, which had the silhouette of a seashell. A small writing desk was set neatly into a corner, the perfect size for his laptop. He even had French patio doors inside his bedroom, each door with ten little windows on it, should he decide to sneak out at night like the rebellious teen that he was.

      Jason glanced at the burgundy and gold bed cover, finding himself reluctant to leave its extravagant and comfortable embrace. Finally, he tossed it aside and slid off the bed. He looked down at his discarded clothing and sneakers, and at how drab they looked in the fancy setting. He imagined some maid coming in, holding her nose pinched in repugnance as she placed his items inside a trash bag and took them out somewhere, probably for burning.

      His backpack and the couple of boxes of clothing he’d brought in were resting along one wall, and he stepped over and sifted out the day’s attire. After donning a fresh tee shirt and jeans, and his same stale socks and sneakers, he ventured out into the rest of the house.

      Jason found his parents in the kitchen, which was as awe-inspiring as his bedroom. The ceiling and walls were a mere beige, but the color complemented the rich, maple cabinets and bright white major appliances. The cozy kitchen table had a glass top, while the rest of its frame was of gleaming, ornate black iron, as were the quartet of chairs, with twelve inch, mottled beige marble tile running the length of the floor.

      Are you guys sure we’re in the right house? Jason joked. I thought this was supposed to be the guesthouse?

      His mother was sitting at the table with his father. Now she placed a hand on her cheek and looked at him in disbelief. Oh my God, you should see our bedroom. It’s all in shades of gray and black, and it’s got these funny mirrors that look like sea shells, and…

      They’re called geometric mirrors. His dad cut in, before he went back to studying an assortment of paperwork he’d spread out on the table.

      I feel like I’m in a movie from the nineteen-forties or something. His mother finished off. Dutifully, she stood up and made her way to the stove. You want some eggs, honey?

      Sure, mom. Jason answered. There was another set of patio doors in the kitchen, he noticed. The teen began to wonder how many patio doors the main house had, since he figured the guesthouse had at least three: one in each bedroom and one in the kitchen.

      Omelet or scrambled?

      Uh, omelet, please. So, what are you doing, dad? Looking up stuff for your new store?

      Uh, no. His father answered. I’m just going over the contract I signed with Hadley. Over the last couple of weeks, the utility companies have installed new electric, gas and water meters for this guesthouse. We’ll have to open an account if we want our own phone line. Since we haven’t had a land-line for the last few months, and since your mother and I both have our cell phones, I’m thinking we can do without the added expense for the time being. Same deal with the cable company. This house is set up for it, but if we want access, we’ll have to open up our own account.

      But we’ve still got the Internet, right? Jason asked.

      Yes, we do. The senior Moore nodded. We’ll be sharing the service with the main house, and the bill will be sent there. Remind me, and I’ll give you the access code later. Hey, Viv, can you make me a cup of coffee, please? Light on the sugar?

      Anything you say, General Moore.

      His dad set a few papers aside and took up another sheet. I guess the maintenance company hasn’t been here in a couple of months, so I’ll have to do a thorough walk-through as soon as I can. If either of you see anything broken, or anything that needs replacing, let me know about it right away. Better yet, write it down and make sure to put the note in my hand, otherwise I might forget. He shifted to another paper. Oh, Viv, as of the fifteenth, one of us has to physically be on the property at all times. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

      What is that, three more days from today?

      Jason’s dad checked the calendar on his phone. Yes. If somebody from Hadley’s company calls or shows up out of the blue, and there isn’t an adult on site to answer the phone, they could kick us out of here.

      Okay, I heard you the first time. His mother replied, and to Jason, she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

      Jason, if your mother tries to head out shopping while I’m at work, I want you to take her car keys and hide them. I mean it.

      Jason chuckled. Do you really think I can keep mom away from the mall?

      Keep at it, and you’re going to be making your own omelet. His mother threatened.

      Jason grinned. Sorry!

      The reason I’m bringing this up is because the mall isn’t just down the block, like it was back home. His father explained. Palm Springs is a good forty-five minute drive east, and San Bernardino is about half an hour going west. According to Hadley, the only big things in Benton are half a dozen major retailers at a factory outlet place and one world-class casino. That’s it.

      Did you just mention a casino? His mother halted her cooking.

      Forget I said that. His father suddenly looked ashen. There is no casino in Benton. I repeat; there is no casino in Benton. Besides, we don’t have any money to gamble with right now, do we?

      You will in a few weeks, after you start working at your new store. His mother teased. And since we don’t have to pay any rent here…

      Don’t even think about it. His dad warned, but a moment later he loosened up. We should do good here. I’ll set aside some money so we can go and check the place out, once I’ve paid the monthly fee at the storage place. Once we’re all settled in. Is that okay with you, honey?

      That sounds fine to me.

      A few minutes later, Vivian came back to the table with her husband’s coffee in one hand, and a plate with an omelet in the other. Once she’d served her two men, she went back for her own cup.

      Jason eagerly pounced on his breakfast. His mother’s omelets usually consisted of eggs and cheese, mixed in with chopped bits of ham, onion and celery, and the omelet was served with a couple of maize tortillas. Jason’s favorite technique was to cut the round omelet in half and stuff the pieces into the tortillas to transform them into floppy, makeshift tacos.

      And here I thought you wouldn’t be so hungry after last night’s hamburger. His mother quipped, as she set a glass of orange juice down beside her son’s plate.

      Thanks, mom. Jason mumbled past his full mouth. Bits of omelet dribbled out as he spoke.

      Now seated beside him, his mother watched Jason in revulsion for a moment, before turning to address her husband. You know he doesn’t get that from my side of the family.

      His father chuckled, Jason noticed. The older Moore was hardly ever in good spirits, ever since the debacle with their old house and the mortgage company had taken place, and after that, when he’d started having all those arguments with Vivian’s parents. It was nice to see his dad in a good mood for a change.

      Brian slid back in his chair and got to his feet. So, who wants to walk over with me and see the big house?

      Both Jason and his mother abruptly stood up. His mother retreated momentarily to snatch up a couple of paper towels, which she hurriedly gave to Jason, before she led the way to the front door.

      I’m ready. She said, excitedly.

      Jason took a deep swig of orange juice and wrapped up his second omelet taco.

      The moment they stepped outside, the sun started glaring down at them. It was merciless.

      It’s so hot out here! His mother whined.

      Yeah, and it’s barely past nine. His father agreed, once he’d checked his phone. I warned you both about what the temperatures out here would be like.

      I can’t wait for summertime. His mother complained, sarcastically. However, she soon found herself awed by her surroundings. Will you just look at this place? It’s so beautiful!

      Just past the dirt clearing where the SUV was parked, was a broad expanse of vibrantly green, but slightly overgrown grass. The curve of a winding path was also visible, and in two different directions it led away and into the distance. They could also see a quiet pond, a few stout trees and plenty of shrubbery nearby.

      Fifteen acres large. Jason’s father announced. This place has gardens, fountains, walking paths and ponds. And something like four hundred rose bushes. Like a tour guide, he motioned them toward the main house. Follow me.

      Jason gazed up to see a wall of windows running along the top of the west wall. These were on the third floor. The second floor had large windows as well, but they weren’t as numerous, and the first floor only had a few small, narrow windows, due to much of the level being buried into the ground. Wait, does this house have three floors, or is the bottom floor the basement?

      Three full floors, but the second floor is the main one, so I guess you can call the first floor a basement. His father replied, and cryptically added. On top of that, this house did have some sort of second basement or cellar once, but I guess it was never used. It got covered over during one of the renovations that were done here. Just wait until you see what’s in the basement, Jay.

      A short set of cement steps led to a rather simple patio door.

      Brian, that’s not the front door, is it? His mother asked.

      Nope, that’s just a side door into the kitchen. The front door is over this way. Jason’s father stepped around a corner and jogged up another set of steps. A short wall ran alongside the steps, covered in stucco and colored in a thick, maple leaf green. At the top of the dozen steps, they came to wide landing and a set of double doors with huge and ornate glass inserts. The excited man paused to fish out a ring of keys from his pocket. He playfully shook the key ring for his wife and son for a moment. Once he’d unlocked the doors, he stepped aside to allow entry to his tiny entourage.

      They stepped past what appeared to be the door to a large coat closet, and came to a foyer that led to an expanse the size of a hotel lobby. It was a huge and open area, with almost a dozen plush couches and ornate coffee tables scattered across the room and arranged to allow several large conversations to take place at the same time. A wet bar was located at one end of the room, and in strategic locations were situated large and colorful urns, while beside the couches sat smaller urns that doubled as ashtrays.

      The interior space in this house measures over ten thousand square feet. Jason’s father proudly boasted. Compare that to our old house at one thousand, four hundred feet. This first floor has a huge patio, the second floor has an equally huge balcony, and there’s another open patio on the roof that takes up the entire roof and measures out at two thousand square feet.

      Oh, my God, Brian, this place is huge. Jason’s mother remarked.

      Six bedrooms, six bathrooms, and three of those bathrooms are commercially sized lavatories that will each accommodate half a dozen people at once. The senior Moore called out over his shoulder, as he strode with confidence toward the staircase. Let’s head up to the ballroom on the top floor.

      Jason’s mother raised her eyebrows in her son’s direction, before she took off after his dad. The young man was set to follow and gulping down the last of his taco, when he felt something eerie on the back of his neck. He turned around, but of course there was nobody there. Jason had watched his dad shut the front door right after they’d walked inside.

      Jason took a couple of steps in the direction his parents had gone, only to feel that same dread once again. This time, he could see vague figures all around him, of a smoky room full of men raising glasses of champagne and laughing, and across from them, beautiful women with fur scarves gossiping and smoking cigarettes through antique cigarette holders.

      Inexplicably, Jason was reminded of the old movie, The Shining, where an amateur writer lands a job as a caretaker at a remote skiing resort. And here he was, with his dad just having landed a similar post in a remote spot in Southern California. And like the weird character Jack Nicholson had portrayed in the movie, he too was seeing old ghosts in an empty room with a bar.

      Red Rum, he recalled.

      Jason shook his head. He was just being stupid, he scolded himself, and imagining things because of some dumb movie he’d once seen. He looked around the room, confirming that there was nothing amiss or out of the ordinary, before he set off at a light trot.

      The teen ascended a huge, polished staircase with steps that were at least ten feet wide. At the top, he observed a great ballroom to one side, with a polished and centered dance floor. All around the dance floor sat a dozen tables with white aprons that could have seated more than ten people each. The fireplace looked big enough to roast a dozen seated people at the same time. A second bar stretched out for twenty feet and was covered with its own wooden-framed canopy. One entire wall was made up of patio doors that led out to an equally impressive and luxuriously appointed balcony. No wonder the movie company didn’t want to give the place up. Jason marveled at how luxurious everything was.

      His giggling mother exited from one of the half a dozen doorways that ran along the wall on the opposite side of the ballroom. Jason, you should take a look at these bedrooms! They’re fabulous!

      These six bedrooms can hold up to twenty-four guests. His father finished up as he exited and closed the door behind him. There you are, Jay. We thought we’d lost you for a second.

      I was just finishing up my breakfast. Jason admitted.

      His father took a dozen steps toward the dance floor. Let me see what I can remember about this floor. This ballroom is one thousand, five hundred square feet, and by itself is bigger than our old house. Once the patio doors are opened up, it extends out even further, but I forgot the extra footage. This floor is made of mahogany wood, the bars all over this house are modeled after English pubs, and what else? Oh, the fireplace is fifteen feet wide and made of five tons of imported stone. The handrail on the stairs going up to the roof came from an old train station.

      Brian, you’re starting to sound like a car salesman. Jason’s mother kidded.

      I guess I’d better clam up then. His father managed to look insulted, albeit in an exaggerated fashion. Actually, part of the contract stipulates that I know a few things about the property. Hadley’s company was trying to negotiate a deal with the current owners so they could advertise this place to the clientele of other movie studios. If that works out, this place might be getting a little more traffic than it has been lately. It’ll be up to us to answer any questions any visitors might have about the house, and in general to make things easier for them.

      We’d be innkeepers for the rich and famous? His mother looked as if she’d won the lottery. Please tell me we can take their pictures?

      I’m sorry, Viv. His father answered seriously. We are not to solicit autographs, take pictures, or ask for any memorabilia from anyone that visits here. We cannot even let anyone know who is staying in the house until after they’ve gone. Is that clear? I’m talking to you too, Jason. In the event that we have a well-known band stay here a night, or even a few nights, you are under no circumstances to fawn over them or bug them in any way.

      Vivian straightened up and held her arm up in a mock military salute. Yes, General Moore. Will there be anything else, sir?

      Jason slid next to his mother and mimicked her actions, but not her words.

      I didn’t know we had a couple of clowns in the family. His father teased. Do you guys want to take a look at the roof first, or go down to the bottom floor?

      Jason’s mother glanced over at her son, then back to her husband. But it’s so hot outside right now. Let’s skip the roof until later in the evening. Is that okay with you, Jason?

      Jason shrugged. Sure.

      Okee-dokee. Brian turned and began a leisurely trot down the stairs. Right this way, people.

      The bottom floor was as extravagant as everything else in the house. Its two thousand square foot area was littered with small couches and round coffee tables. One corner was set up as a miniature movie theater with a big screen TV and authentic movie seating for fifteen, while two pool tables quietly sat in another corner. Along with the obligatory wet bar, there was another fireplace, much cozier than the one in the ballroom, a niche to shoot darts and even an isolated section set up for, of all things, video gaming.

      Is that what I think it is? Jason approached the small room like a kid eyeing a present at Christmas time. He saw two couches facing another big screen TV, speakers mounted in every upper corner of the dark walls, and a state of the art gaming console sitting on a small coffee table right there in the middle. Looking over beside the TV, Jason spotted a four shelf wooden cabinet. Once he’d stepped over and opened it, he discovered at least forty games, including many of the latest, more popular titles. Wow.

      Hands off the merchandise, buddy-boy. His dad warned. That equipment is reserved for rap stars and heads of state. Oh, and for gaming professionals like me. He paused while Jason gave him a bewildered look. Just kidding. My brother said we have access to everything in the house, provided that there aren’t any guests staying here at the time, and that we promise to take care of everything. Anything that we break is coming out of our pockets, understand?

      Jason nodded emphatically.

      Brian turned to his wife. And that includes the covered spa outside, that seats up to seven.

      Vivian beamed. I knew there was a good reason why I married you. I just didn’t know what that reason was until now.

      Very funny. Brian shook his head, although there was a grin on his face. So, what do you think, Jason? You think you’ll like it here?

      The question caught the youth off-guard. Honestly, he replied, I don’t know. I just wish this place was a little closer to San Diego.

      His mother stepped over and placed an arm around his shoulders. I know it’s tough for you to leave your friends, but look at me. I left my mom and dad in San Diego. I’m not going to see them as often as I’d like, what with being a hundred miles away from them, but you know how bad the situation was getting there.

      We’re all going to have to make some adjustments, Jay. His father added. You could say that I’m in the same boat you are. I left a bunch of people behind that I’ve worked with for years. When I present myself at my new store on Monday, I’m going to be feeling the same butterflies in my stomach that you’re going to be experiencing when your mother enrolls you in your new school.

      But you’ve got it good. Vivian reminded her son. Since the high school here is on Spring Break, you’ve got still got one more week left on your vacation.

      All of a sudden, Jason didn’t want to be part of the conversation anymore. He slid away from his mother’s grasp and started out. I’m going back to my room.

      He’d been doing this frequently enough that neither of his parents made the attempt to call him back.

      Jason sulked up the stairs and trudged through the foyer, all the while wondering why his parents didn’t understand what he was going through. They were both happy to be leaving San Diego, but he wasn’t. He was being ripped away and discarded from the city like an old, useless scab. Jason never had a choice or a say in what direction he wanted his life to go in. It was just, pack your things, son, and get in the car, son, and let’s get going, son.

      He paused just outside the front door, standing in the shade of the covered entry, but even there he felt the day’s ebbing heat start to nibble away at his composure. Sure, it was warm, but not anywhere near as bad as his mother made it out to be. He trotted across the open space and didn’t slow down until he reached the entrance to the guesthouse.

      Once he was inside his room, Jason up-ended the box that held his briefs and socks, spilling its contents on the floor and snatching up one of each. He stepped out, for a moment wondering where the bathroom was, until he realized the simple layout of the residence. Two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. That was it, although he admitted that most of the rooms were generously proportioned. There was no dining room to speak of, or anything else, and the bathroom was smartly located right between the two bedrooms.

      The bathroom walls were tiled in black with white grout, and the floor in a pale white marble with minimal gray streaks. Two lighted round mirrors with three inch thick, black and white frames overlooked a simple black cabinet, raised up by two long and spidery-looking legs, and on the counter top were twin ivory sinks with black faucets. As Jason was emotionally leaning toward the distressed side, he merely took a precursory look at the decor, while making sure his mother had stocked the room with towels. She had, although her peach colored towels looked like pastel stains on the otherwise contrasting room.

      There was no tub, just a large shower stall with glass doors and a painted white handle, and inside, a removable, round shower head with an extension as long as a water hose. Jason turned on the water, comparing that the water pressure wasn’t nearly as strong as what he was used to in San Diego, but this didn’t stop him from stripping and hopping in. The young man finished his shower quickly, and after drying himself off and getting dressed, he went back to his room.

      What was he going to do with himself all day, he wondered. He didn’t feel like putting away his clothes, and he hadn’t thought to stick his Ipod in its charger when he’d gone to bed, so that was almost dead. Jason didn’t know anything about Benton, either, other than it was a small town with no real mall or any other acceptable hangout for kids his age.

      Man, this place really blows. Jason said out loud.

      After a cloudy moment of indecision, he recalled the park-like setting of the Grant property, and he decided to prop a ball cap on his head and go out for a walk. Fifteen acres was a good chunk of land in which to hide from his parents.

      He snaked a small water bottle from the fridge and set off for exploration.

      The Grant House, he soon discovered, was built at the crest of a large hill, and it was of high enough elevation to allow a sweeping view of Benton and the Chapanga Valley past it. There was a cluster of mountains spread out to the north and another, smaller grouping only a couple of miles south of town. To the east the edges of town could be seen dying out and overwhelmed by what looked to be arid and mostly empty land.

      More in his immediate vicinity were the curving walking path and neatly organized rows of rose bushes, along with an occasional tree full of sprouting leaves. He found a second pond a short while later, although this pond held evidence of its neglect by the numerous leaves that were marring its nearly empty surface. Also, as he took a seat on a flat, stone bench, he noticed that the grass here was even more unkempt that it had been near the main house.

      It was going to take some serious work to get the property back into shape. Jason hoped there was a sizable stipend for the landscapers, so that none of the labor would end up falling on his shoulders. Part of Jason’s chores at their old house, he recalled, and also at his grandma’s place, included Jason having to cut the lawn and rake up the leaves every few weeks.

      Still, Jason loved being outdoors. The idea of living in a medium-sized park did have a certain appeal to it, even if it was out in a middle of nowhere kind of place like Benton.

      The sun, he soon noticed, was going to be another problem entirely. Its heat was like a palpitating heart, but instead of emanating love and sweetness like it did in San Diego, it was hurling hot magma at his fuzzy head in Benton. The sweat springing up from his pores gave him the impression that he was already melting. Like a rodent, he scampered away from the bench and under the negligible shade of the nearest tree.

      Jason was about to take a seat on the ground, when he looked down at his sneakers, and at the edges of the grass surrounding the tree. Dozens of fire ants were bustling around, each about the length of his fingernails. Contemplating the scalding sun above, and the red ants below his feet, Jason began to wonder if he’d arrived in a land of fire. He shook his head in frustration. This place really blows.

      He started the short walk back to his new house.

      2

      Jason’s parents were busy unloading the SUV when he got back.

      You’re just in time. Brian called over. Can you give us a hand getting all this stuff out? Before it really starts to get hot?

      Sure. Jason said, glumly strolling over.

      What do you mean, before it really gets hot? Vivian asked. How hot is it supposed to get today?

      Do you really want to know? Brian asked, setting down a box of packaged food on the vehicle’s tailgate.

      No.

      I really want to know. Jason stepped over beside his dad.

      Well, I’m guessing that it’s around eighty degrees right now, and according to the weather service, it’s going to get up to the mid-nineties today. Benton has been known to have temperatures of over one hundred degrees for a month straight.

      Oh, my God. Vivian complained, grabbing a few grocery bags full of toiletries and make-up. She hurriedly walked out of the sun’s range.

      Brian chuckled and turned to Jason. Here, take this food inside while I grab some of the heavier stuff.

      Jason carried the box in.

      Just set that somewhere in the living room. His mother announced from the kitchen. "I’ll stay in here and start organizing everything. That way, I

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